Chapter 18
Tagger
A month later . . .
I look at Mike, trying to read his expression as he stares across the table at the other attorney. He’s a pro, so he gives nothing away. He says, “I’m going to consult with my client.”
“We’ll give you some privacy,” the other attorney says before standing and pulling Anna’s chair out for her.
The room remains silent until the door is closed behind them. Mike turns to me, breathing a sigh of relief, and says, “It’s a fair offer, but if you want to fight for more time with Beckett or have more say when he’s in her care, we can proceed with our previous plan.”
“It’s not about winning. It’s about doing what’s best for my son. I want it over. I’m tired. I’m sure she is as well.” Still finding some humor after the hours this morning spent negotiating custody and related issues to his care, I crack a smile, and say, “I’m really tired of the legal bills.”
He laughs. “I’m sure you are. Personally, I’ll miss that monthly payment.”
“I bet you will. My bank account will be thrilled.”
“The judge has already approved the arrangement, so if you’re ready to accept the deal, all you need to do is sign.”
I was ready two years ago. It just took her that time and a lot of money to realize I’m not giving up custody, but I’ll share.
We ended right back where we started, what I offered in the beginning.
Fifty-fifty and other arrangements can be discussed for special circumstances when they arise.
I take the pen and sign the agreement, putting an end to the battle and saving us both a lot of damn money. “Done.”
“I’ll get copies to the other attorneys and get the paperwork filed for you to make it official.” He stands. When I do, we shake hands. “It’s been a pleasure.”
“Is this about the money again?”
He laughs. “Sure is.” Collecting the paperwork, he adds, “I’m glad it worked out, Tagger. Now you can move on with your life and enjoy time with your son.”
“I intend to.” I open the door to the conference room and start down the hall. Behind a wall of glass, I see Anna and her attorney deep in conversation. Her eyes track me as I walk by, and she jumps to her feet and rushes to the door. “Hey, Tagger?”
“I signed.”
Relief washes through her expression, ending with half a smile. That’s more than she typically offers since she claims happiness turns into wrinkles. “Thank you. It’s not why I wanted to talk to you, though.”
“What is it? Do I need a lawyer present?” The joke doesn’t land, but I also don’t know how much I was kidding.
She laughs. “Funny. You were always funny. Beckett takes after you that way. He can be such a clown. It’s cute and sweet.”
“He’s a little goose alright.” The small talk is surprising. She hasn’t had a taste for that when it comes to me in a long time. And as much as I could talk about our son all day, I don’t have the same patience for her. “What did you want to talk to me about?”
“Um.” She looks at a lady passing and then lowers her head and goes quiet until we’re alone again. She looks up and says, “I just wanted to tell you that I’m glad this is settled, but I also wanted to apologize. I’m sorry for not agreeing sooner.”
We were never a good match, but we have an amazing son from the relationship, so it’s hard to have regrets. “Hey,” I say, giving her an attagirl nudge to the arm to lighten the mood. “We got there in the end. Now we can focus on Beckett and what’s best for him.”
She clasps her hands in front of her. “Right. Well, thank you.”
“Thank you, Anna. It’s good to put this behind us.” I start down the hall.
“He talks about Peachtree Pass all the time,” she says behind me.
I stop and turn back. “Yeah?”
She tentatively comes a bit closer. “He talks about the horses and chickens, how you rode with him in the saddle with you.” She smooths her hair over her ear, though I know that’s a nervous tic of hers.
It’s always perfectly in place. Today, it’s even pulled back, and not a hair dares to escape.
“Sounds like I missed out on all the fun.”
A memory of her making us leave because she felt dirty from being in the middle of Texas comes to mind. “It’s dustier than ever.”
“Right. Dirt.” She laughs, but there’s no humor in it.
“Not my favorite.” She glances away as if she’s not sure what to say to keep me there a little longer, which is odd because she usually wants me to leave as soon as possible.
But then she says, “But Beckett loved it, so if you’re going back this summer and want to stay longer than a few days, we can work that out. ”
The walls I’ve held for years around her start to crumble, my shoulders already feeling lighter. “I appreciate that, Anna. I have some vacation time saved. It would be nice to go back for the festival in June and spend some time there.”
“The peach festival?” After I confirm with a nod, she smiles, and it’s the first genuine one I’ve seen in years.
“I think I judged things too harshly. Sounds like a lot of fun. He’ll love that.
” Releasing a breath that sounds like it’s been locked in her chest for years, she asks, “One more thing, Tagger. Beckett keeps mentioning someone. Who’s Miss Christine? ”
Shit.
My gaze redirects to my attorney and his legal assistant coming out of the conference room and heading our way. “She owns one of the ranches out there.”
“Ah.” She’s still smiling, so that’s good. “He had a good time with her and still talks about feeding the horses carrots and how much she loves mushy lima beans.”
“Yeah.” It’s all I can say. I’ve been thinking about Pris a lot since I left, but reaching out seemed to be crossing one of those lines we put in place without realizing it. For all I know, she could be dating someone. Though, I hope it’s not that deputy.
I work, sleep, get Beck every other week, and repeat since being back in the city. Other women don’t cross my mind. Since I was with Pris, I’ve lost interest in everyone else. I wonder if she has?
Mike stops and asks, “Everything okay?”
“Yes, we’re good.” I eye Anna, and say, “I’ll see you on Sunday to pick up Beckett.”
“See you then.”
I walk out with Mike, and I'm glad to be putting this behind me as well before any more questions about Christine can be asked. I’m glad Beck liked her so much, but Anna won’t be happy if she learns more.
When I return to the office, my assistant has a sandwich waiting on my desk. I hang my jacket on the hook behind the door, then sit to unwrap it. Turkey and Havarti. Kendra knows me well.
A knock draws my eyes up. With my mouth full, I wave her in. She comes closer but doesn’t sit. “Figured you wouldn’t eat.”
“I appreciate it.” I glance at the three screens on the far wall, which are updating the major markets. Habit. She didn’t ask, but she’s been a good support in the office and for me while dealing with this custody mess during the past few years. “It’s settled. We both agree. Right down the center.”
“That’s great to hear.”
“She’s a good mom. I’m a good dad. He deserves equal time with us.”
When she smiles, pride enters her eyes. Older than me with the patience of an angel, she’s been with me for more than five years, and it’s worked out well.
She’s almost like a second mom to me. She worries too much about me eating or hydrating, gets me to take deep breaths when my blood pressure shoots through the ceiling, and will stay long after it’s time to leave until I force her out.
I’m fortunate to have the support. “It’s good to move on.
My divorce was nasty. The custody battle wiped me out.
It’s nice that you two can come to an agreement that you’re both satisfied with.
And having that negativity out of your life will benefit not only you and your health but also your time with your son.
” She walks toward the door. “Eat up. You have a meeting with the boss in fifteen.”
“I also have a million calls and twice as many emails to deal with.”
At the door, she says, “Boss meeting first. Calls second. The emails have been sorted by priority. Start on the red accounts first, yellow second, and green last.”
“Thank you, Kendra. I owe you.”
“In the form of a generous bonus check at the end of the year.” She knows how to make an exit.
I wasn’t needed in that meeting, but it still ate over an hour of my day. I return to my office to find Baylor staring out my window.
“What brings you by?” I ask, coming around the chairs to shake his hand.
“We haven’t hung out in three weeks.”
Maneuvering around my desk, I sit and roll forward. “I see you every week at basketball. We’ve run twice in Central Park, and you’re seeing me now.”
“That’s not hanging out. That’s meetups with a purpose, to exercise.” He sits down. Leaning back in the chair, he kicks his feet up on my desk.
“Make yourself at home, why don’t you?”
“Thanks. Don’t mind if I do.”
I steeple my fingers, my gaze darting to the screens to see the markets closing.
No surprises are a great thing in finance.
He’s watching it, too, since his career is based in the same field.
I work in the commercial sector. He’s a whiz in personal finance.
We’ve both done very well for ourselves as two kids from Peachtree Pass, Texas.
When he turns back, he asks, “So what gives?”
“Busy.”
“Not that busy.”
So fucking confident he knows everything. Always was. “How do you know how busy I am?”
“I don’t but figured if you had a lot of shit going on, you’d tell me.”
“Anna and I settled today.”
He drops his feet and leans forward. “You serious?”
“Yep. It’s signed.”
It’s the first real grin I’ve gotten from him. “I’m happy for you, man.”
“Me, too.” My phone screen lights up with another appointment added to my schedule. I push it to the side to ignore it. “You’re right. I haven’t been in the mood to go out much.”
“Ever since you got back. Any correlation?”
Does appearing indifferent make me look guilty?
I take the chance, not moving anything on my face but my mouth.
“No,” I lie. Pris has changed my perspective on a few things and had me reevaluating, figuring out how to be happy again.
Today was a big step in the right direction.
But I also find myself thinking about the woman more than I should, considering we’ve not been in touch once since I left. Why is that?
Is it me?
Or is this what she wants?
We’re both to blame, but I’ve been wondering if I’m the only one who has struggled to reach out. What would I say?
Making you come was a highlight of my year? Kissing you made me regret waiting so long to do it? Being with you . . . well, you’re difficult in some ways, but so am I, so does that make us perfect together? Or a ticking time bomb?
Only one way to find out . . .
“No,” I reply, lying through my teeth again. “Just been preoccupied.”
He stands and bumps his hand against the desktop twice. “Okay. The Yankees are in town. I can get tickets for Saturday. You in?” He grins and points at me. “C’mon, Tag. Tell me you’re in.”
My mind might have been preoccupied with Pris, but I miss hanging out with my best friend. “I’m in.”
“Good. I’ll text the time.” We slap our hands together before he heads for the door. “Wait until I tell you about this little honey I hooked up with from the gym.” His hands fly from each other like an explosive went off. “Whew, pure fire.”
As soon as he walks out, I grab the phone. “Kendra, can you book a flight back to Austin for a week from Saturday?”
“Sure can. Going to visit your folks again?”
“Yeah, that and catch up with some friends.”
I hear the clacking of keys on her end. “Going solo, or should I book for Beckett as well?”
“Solo this time.”